Revolution (48 page)

    He was startled when another Trooper emerged from a cabin across the deck. Rayne aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger before the Trooper could point the barrel of his weapon. The armored body dropped heavily to the deck. Rayne swept the rifle to the left and right, searching for more targets. Frightened passengers dropped to the deck, covering their heads with their hands.

    Rayne made his way toward the rear of the boat. The air bikes had closed in to a mere hundred feet away. Peter could make out the details of the Shock Trooper’s gleaming helmets and body armor as they skimmed across the water on their metallic steeds.

   
Let’s hope I still remember how to fire a rifle
.

    Rayne got down on his knees, laying the automatic weapon across the top of the boat railing. He took aim at the closest metal shape. White fire spat from the barrel of his rifle as he launched a bullet barrage at the centermost Trooper in the line of air-bikes. Peter tried to line up the air-bike and its rider in the gun-sights, but his shots went wide, kicking up spray as the bullets skimmed across the waves.

     He stopped firing, using all his concentration to hold the rifle steady and line up the rider in his sights. He pulled the trigger when he thought he had him. His shots went slightly wide again, so he swept the rifle from left to right. A lucky shot struck the Trooper’s air bike. Sparks and smoke exploded from the side of the metal hull. The bike did a bizarre figure eight in the air and crashed into the ocean. The other air bikes continued to close in on the boat.

    Rayne lined up the next air bike and pulled the trigger. His rifle made a clicking sound. He popped out the spent magazine and locked in a fresh one. He took aim again and fired. His body lurched forward as the powerboat suddenly began to decelerate. The air bike lined up in his sights shot closer as the boat decreased its speed.

     The bikers were now within fifty feet of the boat and closing fast. Metallic thunder filled the air as the bikes opened fire with their front-mounted machine guns. Bullets exploded on the deck around Peter’s feet as white fire blasted from the nozzles of the bikes’ machine guns.

   
Clearly, I am outmatched and outgunned
.

    Peter turned and fled. Automatic gunfire ripped the deck to shreds behind him as he sprinted toward the central cabins. Skirting past the rear cabins, he made his way toward the front control cabin. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a pair of air bikes sweeping over the deck railing behind him.

    Rayne ducked into a doorway just in time to miss getting shredded by automatic gunfire. The other passengers on deck were not as lucky. A young, well-dressed couple was in the way of the bullet storm. Their bodies blew apart and pieces of them scattered across the deck like bloody, broken rag dolls.

    Rayne found himself in a service cabin surrounded by tall shelves filled with various types of liquor. He left through a door on the other side. Reaching the other side of the deck, he glanced over his shoulder as he ran. Nothing behind him.

     He could hear the air bikes’ guns firing on the other side of the cabins. The metallic thunder didn’t let up. Taking a right, Rayne ran for the front control cabin, kicked open the door, and focused his rifle barrel on the captain’s face.

    “Get this crate moving,” he growled.

    The captain let go of the wheel and raised his arms in a
surrender
position. The first mate did the same.

    “Now,” Rayne added, firing several rounds into the back wall to get his point across.

    The first mate scrambled to the front control panel and pushed a lever forward. The deck lurched as the powerboat accelerated again.

    “Bring it back up to top speed,” Rayne instructed, keeping the gun focused on the captain’s face.

    The captain ducked out of the gun’s sights temporarily and pushed a second lever forward. The boat increased its acceleration.

    Automatic thunder continued to explode from the rear boat cabins. The air bikes were hovering on the starboard deck, firing their guns into the service cabins. Screams punctuated the thundering roar of the machine guns.

    “Now get out of here,” Rayne commanded, motioning to the doorway he had entered with his rifle barrel.

    The crewmen kept their arms raised in the air as they stepped through the doorway onto the outer deck. The instant they stepped foot on deck, more metallic thunder exploded as they were cut down by a hail of bullets.

    The air bikes have me surrounded on
both sides!

    Rayne smashed out a side window and aimed his rifle through it. He squeezed the trigger as the closest air bike swept directly across his line of fire. The bullets struck the engine, exploding the bike into a massive ball of flames.

    Rayne ducked behind the wall as hot pieces of shrapnel shattered the control cabin’s side windows. The momentum of the exploding fireball caused it to race along the front deck, colliding with a pair of fleeing tourists. The tourists were instantly incinerated and swept away with the fireball.

     The air bike following closely behind the fireball was equally unlucky. It crashed into the remains of the first bike, exploding and adding to the carnage. The flaming wreckage of the two bikes smashed through the front deck railing and crashed into the sea.

    Rayne flung himself onto the cabin floor, extending his rifle forward in a sniper position. His instincts served him well as a sudden bullet storm shattered the windows on the opposite side, ripping up the wall he had been leaning against seconds before. Peter aimed his rifle at the far wall of the control cabin, which looked like a piece of Swiss cheese after being ripped apart.

    Rayne fired when he saw blue metallic gleams through the bullet holes in the wall. He knew he hit his mark when another explosion thundered from the other side of the deck. The windows on the opposite side of the control cabin shattered as additional shrapnel shot through the room. There were sharp, stinging sensations in his forearms and back as small pieces of shrapnel bit into him, drawing blood. When he lifted his head again, he felt as if his forearms and back had been stung by a swarm of bees.

    Ignoring the pain and blood, Rayne gripped his rifle and got to his knees. Turning, he crawled toward the back wall, moving through pieces of hot shrapnel – burning the already sliced skin on his hands and forearms. Grunting with pain, he dropped flat on the floor when a second burst of gunfire erupted from the opposite wall of the cabin. Hot shrapnel on the floor burned into his chest. When the hail of bullets stopped, he got back on his knees and crawled for the door.

    Peter dove through the doorway and crawled across the deck until he was behind the shelter of the wall on the left side of the control cabin. The machine gun attack resumed, laying waste to every square inch of the cabin.

    I made it out just in time.

    Rayne heard the sounds of ricocheting bullets tearing through the boat’s instrument panels. He continued crawling until he was behind the wall of the service cabin behind the control room.

   
If I’m lucky, the remaining Shock Troopers will think I’ve been annihilated.

    Standing shakily to his feet, Peter leaned against the outside wall and held his rifle in a sweaty, bloody grip. Glancing to his right, he saw a long trail of fire and shrapnel extending from the deck outside the control cabin to the smashed railing at the bow of the boat. Looking straight ahead, he saw the buildings on the mainland looming steadily larger.

    Almost there. If I can just stay alive a few more minutes, the boat will reach land. The only problem is the controls are fused, so there’s no way to steer or decelerate the boat. That means a violent crash landing. If the boat strikes the concrete pier at full speed, my mission will most certainly be over.

    Rayne decided to avoid the trail of fire and shrapnel in front of him, opting instead to turn and circle around the rear of the service cabins. Emerging on the other side of the deck, he saw two of the remaining air bikes parked on the front deck beyond a large pile of flaming wreckage.

    Where are the riders
?

    Rayne advanced cautiously with his rifle extended, hoping the flaming wreckage would camouflage his advance to anyone standing on the front deck. He was forced to stop when he reached the wreckage and had to skirt around the pile in order to reach the front deck. He crouched down behind the flames as he moved. Metallic voices spoke on the other side of the fire.

    “There’s no body!” one of the Troopers exclaimed.

    “There has to be! Check on the other side of the deck!” the other Trooper replied.

    Rayne figured it was now or never. He sidestepped around the wreckage, taking aim at the armored Trooper standing next to the control cabin’s doorway. Firing, he watched as the Trooper’s chest armor was blown apart and his body dropped to the deck. Rayne ran up to the cabin, covering the door with his rifle. He had time to see the other Trooper ducking out the door on the opposite side of the cabin. He fired again, but the bullets whizzed through empty air.

    Peter saw the mainland approaching fast. It looked as if the powerboat was headed straight for a concrete embankment at the water’s edge. Looking further to the right, he spotted the pair of air bikes parked on the deck. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he made a run for the closest bike. The air bikes were both facing toward the control cabin. Rayne ran forward, turned, and leapt onto the back of the closest one. Dropping his rifle to the deck, he clutched the air bike’s handlebars.

    Rayne had never taken a ride on one of these before, so he scanned the controls quickly. Knowing time was short, he pressed a red button. He was startled as the bike’s front-mounted machine guns thundered into action and shattered the remaining front windows on the control cabin. Taking his finger off the button, the firing ceased. Peter glanced down at the small control panel beneath the handlebars. There was a single green button next to a gearshift lever. Pressing the button, he heard the bike’s engines rumble to life.

    Looking up, he saw a blue shape moving to the right of the control cabin. The missing Trooper was circling around the cabin toward him. Rayne pressed the left handlebar lever, unleashing a stream of automatic gunfire. The Trooper stood clear of the exploding gunfire to the right of the cabin, taking aim with his rifle and firing back. Rayne turned the handlebars to the right, re-directing the front-mounted machine guns. The Trooper had time to get off a few shots before he was ripped to shreds by exploding bullets.

    Glancing right, Rayne saw the concrete pier rushing toward him. He pushed upward on the anti-grav lever on the bike’s control panel, shooting the bike straight up. Ascending, he took a moment to look down. He watched the ferry strike the pier in a thundering, splintering crash. Flaming shrapnel shot from the wreckage as the boat exploded in a massive fireball. Rayne continued his rapid ascent, leaving the burning hulk far below.

Chapter 34

    The air-bike halted when it reached its maximum altitude of five hundred feet, hovering high above the ocean’s edge. Turning the handlebars slightly, Rayne activated the bike’s side jets. It turned in a slow 180 degree circle. He stopped when he was facing the ocean horizon. Gazing ahead, he saw something on the watery horizon that froze the blood in his veins. A long line of metal objects gleamed on the ocean.

    A fleet of air bikes are closing in on me
,
too many to count.

   Rayne swung the bike another 180-degrees until he was facing land. Pressing the right handlebar lever, he activated the rear jets. Peter’s stomach lurched as he raced over the roofs of the warehouse buildings lining the waterfront. Turning the handlebars slightly, he aimed for the closest cluster of buildings in the distance.

    Automatic thunder erupted behind him. Rayne turned the handlebar hard to the right, while simultaneously pressing downward on the anti-grav lever. His air-bike dove down into a maintenance road between two warehouse buildings, temporarily shielding him from his pursuers. Peter pressed down on the forward thrust, shooting low over the street at 110 miles per hour.

    He turned the handlebars quickly to avoid striking an oncoming truck, swerving the air bike into the adjacent lane. The truck roared by him like a freight train as he continued racing down the maintenance road. He jetted toward a line of ground and air vehicle traffic on the Warehouse District’s main avenue. The traffic represented a plethora of solid citizens from the suburbs on their way to the Club District for a night of illicit entertainment. 

    Pressing upward on the anti-grav lever, Rayne took a sharp right onto the main avenue, shooting over ground car roofs. Glancing over his shoulder, he didn’t see any pursuers. Peter lifted up on the anti-grav shift until he was riding level with the roofs of the surrounding two-story buildings. Looking ahead, he saw the sparkling lights and neon signs of the Club District flashing a quarter mile down the road.

    That crowded den of criminals and decadents is the ideal place to lose my pursuers.

    Looking over his shoulder, Rayne saw an air bike turning onto the main avenue from the maintenance road. He figured the pursuing rider must have spotted him because he ascended quickly to rooftop level and commenced firing.

    Rayne dodged to the right to avoid an oncoming air car, dropping low so he was skimming over the roofs of ground cars. His pursuer dove after him, firing his front-mounted machine guns.

   Rayne turned his handlebars sharply to the left and ascended as a pair of ground cars below him exploded. He began weaving and ducking, trying to make himself a difficult target for the pursuing rider. Peter dodged under and around air-cars as he encountered them, trying to put them between himself and the relentless air bike rider. He gritted his teeth when he heard the air-car behind him explode.

    Peter was distracted by the colorful neon signs flashing on the walls of the buildings. The Club District. The elaborate signs acted as gaudy advertisements for pleasure houses and their infamous wares. For the right price, any citizen could obtain their heart’s darkest desires. The Club District had everything from gambling establishments to prostitution houses. In between were the Techno-Clubs where anyone with enough money could dance to the newest music and find the latest club drugs.

    Rayne pressed down on the forward thrust shift, but he still couldn’t gain the advantage against his pursuer. Automatic thunder continued to rumble behind him. Bullets ricocheted off building walls and telephone poles. A line of bullets struck one of the neon signs, exploding it in a shower of white sparks.

     Looking ahead, Peter saw another bike turning the corner from a side street racing directly at him. He estimated his distance from the side street and drove straight at the oncoming bike as if he were playing a demented game of
chicken
. Pressing the red button on his left handlebar, Rayne fired at the rider. The rider tried to avoid the bullets by dodging sharply to the left, striking a telephone pole and exploding into flaming debris.

    Rayne dropped low over the roofs of the ground cars to avoid more gunfire from his pursuer. When he reached the closest side street, he swerved hard to his left. His pursuer overshot the turn and hit his brakes, spinning around 180 degrees in the main road. The Shock Trooper pressed down on the forward thrust and resumed the pursuit.

    Rayne’s quick maneuver earned him some breathing space. His pursuer didn’t bother to fire as he worked to close the gap. Rayne glanced over his shoulder to find the bike had dropped back a hundred yards. Peter hit his brakes and coasted into a nearby alleyway where he hoped to lose his pursuer. Racing down the alley, he arrived at a cul de sac.

     Peter maneuvered his bike in a 180-degree turn and faced the street. The alleyway resembled a long, narrow, open-roofed tunnel. He could see the familiar eerie glow from the neon signs illuminating the distant street. Poising his left thumb above the fire button, he waited. Rayne felt relieved when he saw the blue shape of the pursuing bike and its rider flash by the alley’s opening.

   
This is a good spot to lay low for a while
.

    Rayne didn’t regret his decision to hide in the alleyway when he saw a number of blue flashes dart across the opening. He counted at least eight more air bikes.

    Suddenly, Peter heard a loud clanging noise erupt from the pavement ahead. Glancing down, he saw a manhole cover being pushed upwards by an unseen force. Rayne dismounted from the bike and took cover behind a cluster of trash cans. He drew his weapon and focused it on the manhole. The cover tumbled aside and the barrel of a huge gun protruded from the opening. A soldier wearing gray and black urban camouflage armor followed the gun through the opening. He set the machine gun on a tripod and focused it on the far end of the alley.

   
What the hell?

    “Rayne, get over here while I have you covered!” the man with the machine gun shouted over his shoulder.

    “Who are you?” Peter asked.

    “I’m one of the good guys! Get over here before they come back!”

    As Rayne moved toward the manhole, the soldier brought his machine gun down through the opening. Rayne shoved his pistol into the back of his pants and dropped into the unexpected sanctuary. He felt unknown hands catching him in mid-air as he fell.

    Rayne landed gently on his feet on the sewer bottom. Rancid water splashed around his ankles. Glancing around, he saw a group of four men and three women surrounding him. They were carrying flashlights, which brightly illuminated the dark tunnel. Peter recognized the familiar black and gray camouflage uniforms of Campion’s people.

    “How did you guys track me down?” Rayne asked, astonished.

    “We’ll answer your questions later. We have to move,” one of the soldiers said, pushing him forward. Rayne joined the group of soldiers in a quick jog through the sewer. They apparently knew where they were going because they made a decisive turn every time the sewer branched out to intersecting tunnels. Peter felt like he had been jogging for hours before they finally stopped for a break.

    “We found you by monitoring the police radio frequencies,” the man carrying the M-60 machine gun said. “News of a highly wanted fugitive fleeing the island was all over the police scanners. Our spies on the island initially alerted us to a large-scale manhunt. We used our tracking equipment to follow the chase to this specific area. We figured it was you, and Campion sent us over here.” 

    The soldier carrying the M-60 was huge; his enormous shoulder and bicep muscles bulged under his armor plating. Rayne thought he looked even stronger than Campion.

    “Sounds like I got lucky,” Rayne said.

    “Luck had nothing to do with it,” the big man in the camouflage armor retorted. “Let’s move.”

    They continued jogging through the tunnels until Peter lost track of time. He simply followed the flashlight beams of the soldiers in front as they twisted and turned through the labyrinth. He didn’t know how much time went by before they finally stopped.

    “We’re here,” the lead soldier said.

    He focused his flashlight on a metal ladder built into the concrete wall.

    “You go first,” he said to Rayne, gesturing to the ladder.

    “No problem,” Rayne agreed, grasping the lower rungs and lifting up.

    When he made it to the top, an unknown hand reached out and grabbed him. More hands pulled him through the hole in the ground and deposited him safely on his feet. The soldiers in the camouflage uniforms followed him up through the opening. He turned and faced Campion.

    “Nice to see you again,” Rayne said.

    “Nice to see me?” Campion shouted, clapping him hard on the shoulder and hugging him. “Welcome back, you maniac!”

    “Thank you, commander,” Peter said, grinning.

    “No, Peter, thank you. Thank you,” Campion said, shaking his hand vigorously. “My organization owes you a lot. More than we can ever repay. But, let’s not get too sentimental yet. There are still a few things to do. Follow me.”

    Campion led him through the maze-like corridors of the underground headquarters. Rayne followed her, unable to believe he was really here. He was having a hard time accepting the fact that he was actually safe. He couldn’t believe he had escaped from his pursuers. Campion led him to a small, unobtrusive door and opened it.

    “I don’t get it. What’s this?” Peter asked, peering into an ordinary-looking bedroom.

    “We need you to get some rest,” Campion said. “You’re no good to us exhausted.”

    “You want me to go to sleep now?” Rayne asked, surprised.

    “I guarantee you that the moment your head hits the pillow, you’ll fall asleep. You’ve had a rough night. I’ll hear about all your adventures when you wake up. Okay?”

    “If you say so,” Peter muttered, as Jane pushed him into the comfortable-looking bedroom and shut the door behind him.

    Rayne felt claustrophobic and turned back toward the door. He opened it and saw Campion’s armored back receding down the hallway.

    “Trust me,” Campion called over her shoulder without looking back.

    Rayne shut the door and trudged across the bedroom. Campion was right. He was exhausted. Now that his adrenaline was fading, he felt as if he had lost all his energy. Opening the door to the adjacent bathroom, he stepped in to take a shower.

     Peter washed the blood and sewer sludge from his battered body. He threw away his bloody, tattered clothes in a convenient trash barrel. Drying himself off, he found small bandages in the cabinet behind the mirror. He placed several bandages over his deeper wounds and trudged into the bedroom. He found some clothes in a dresser next to the bed. He put on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

    The room had been prepared like an immaculate hotel room. The furniture was spotless and the bed looked as if it had been freshly made. There was even a small refrigerator in the corner stocked with bottled water and sandwiches. He took out a bottle and gulped it down like a man lost on a desert island. Tossing the empty bottle over his shoulder, he took out another. This time, he sipped it and set it down on the dresser.

    It looks like Campion thought of everything.

    Lifting the soft sheets, Peter climbed under them. Jane had been close in her assessment. His head hit the pillow and he only spent a few minutes thinking about the incredible events of the past few days. Fantastic images from his experiences flashed through his mind like a movie on fast forward. The last image was of a beautiful blonde woman staring at him seductively from her seat behind a long table in the Presidential Conference Room. Then, he fell asleep. 

Chapter 35

Final Preparations

    Peter awoke with a sudden start. Someone was pounding on the door with the force of a sledgehammer.

    “Hey, Peter, you in there?” Campion’s voice shouted from behind the door.

    “Hold on a second,” Peter said, getting up from the bed.

    Campion didn’t wait for Rayne to open the door. She burst in like an avalanche.

    “Good morning, my friend. Are you ready to rock and roll?” she asked, clapping Rayne roughly on the shoulder.

    “What’s up, Campion?”

    “We’re going to my office, Peter. We’re having dinner with Connelly.”

    “Dinner? I thought you said it was morning?” Rayne said.

    “Yeah, morning for you. Evening, for everyone else. It’s after six pm. You’ve been asleep for almost twelve hours,” Campion said.

    “Twelve hours!”

    “You must have been pretty wiped out”

    “I guess so. When are you starting the attack?” Peter asked.